Growing Up Granger
by bookwormwithanattitude
Summary: Jean Granger watches her daughter whisked away to a world she cannot hope to understand and also begins to suspect her of keeping secrets. When Hermione is ready to tell, her honesty comes at a price and the Grangers have their identities ripped from them


_A/N: This one shot is a VERY VERY dramatic redoing of a fic I did a long time ago called "All Grown Up". Not only has the fic been edited to include DH canon, it is a bajillion times longer and more detailed. (As well as more plausible and in character) In fact, the only bits intact from the orginal are a few brief scenes around the middle. As you can tell from the summary, it's from the point of view of Hermione's mother, as she watches her daughter grow up and drift farther away from her. I find Hermione's relationship with her parents fascinating, as not much is said about it, and it's clearly very distant. Anyway, hope you enjoy._

_Another A/N: Thanks to a suggestion from GoddessofYouth, I've added a short scene where Mr. and Mrs. Granger react to Crookshanks. Thanks a lot!  
_

**Growing up Granger**

_I've also modified my parent's memories so they're convinced they're Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me- or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you. Assuming I survive our hunt for Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't- well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them save and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know they've got a daughter, you see._

_-_Hermione Granger, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, page 97._

Though Jean Granger would never tell her daughter this, not even if a gun was held to her head, Hermione had been an accident. Jean had always put her career before anything else, and fresh out of dental school, already an assistant in a successful firm and married to an equally intelligent and promising young man, having children had been the last thing on her mind.

But all it took was one night of carelessness for the road she had clearly mapped out for herself to take an unexpected detour.

Jean had considered getting rid of it, but Christopher's family and her own would not have such talk. Jean had to admit she submitted rather easily, the idea of having a child she could be proud of, someone she could mold and mentor, was appealing. She was sure the kid would inherit the streak of intelligence and independence that ran through both of its parents families. She read to the baby as it grew inside her, and occasionally caught herself fantasizing about the things she would teach it.

She thought Hermione was lovely from the moment she was born, though it was unfortunate that she had inherited Christopher's overbite. But what pleased her most was how astute and scholarly Hermione was. The girl was never much trouble; she could often entertain herself by reading. This was good, because Chris and Jean had never been able to figure out what to do with her. Try as she might, Jean just wasn't very motherly, and it was difficult for both of them to take time off their flourishing careers to spend time with Hermione. It hurt Jean that she wasn't very close to her own daughter. She loved Hermione and had never regretted having her, but she just found it hard to communicate with her daughter beyond discussing what she had learned in school today. Neither Jean nor Christopher were famed for being great communicators.

When her daughter entered primary school, she was enthusiastic about her studies and often chattered about all she had learned during dinner. Jean quizzed her often and worked her hard, nurturing this passion. But she got the distinct impression Hermione wasn't very happy on the social front. When Jean asked about Hermione's friends, her answers seemed careful and rehearsed, and Hermione never invited anyone over.

When she voiced these concerns to Chris, he dismissed them.

"Hermione's too smart for those kids. She doesn't need them. Intelligent, mature children are never very popular, you know that, Jean. I'm sure she's fine."

"I'm just worried she's unhappy."

"Come on, Jean, were you that popular in school?"

"No…" she admitted.

"Neither was I, and we turned out fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Despite these words, that night at dinner Chris asked, "Hermione, do you want to invite any friends over? We could have a little party…"

Hermione bowed her head slightly as she picked at her food. "I don't think so, Dad. I have some studying I want to do this weekend."

"Hermione," Jean said. "Are things all right at school? With your friends?"

"Of course," said Hermione shortly.

"Because…well, if you need to talk…" Jean said awkwardly.

"Mum, I'm more interested in learning than having everyone at school over," Hermione said brusquely.

Christopher gave his wife a look that said "See?" But Jane noticed that her daughter's voice had cracked slightly when she'd said that. She continued to worry, though she had no idea how to approach her daughter, or how to make her lot easier.

There were also the incidents. They were called in to the school a few times over strange things that had happened to Hermione's classmates. A boy had approached Hermione when she was reading on the playground, and knocked the book out her hand. He had teased her, driving her near to angry tears. He had started in mocking her overbite, when suddenly, half his teeth had fallen out.

The teachers could find no explanation. They had first assumed Hermione had punched him in the mouth, but the witnesses around the playground said she hadn't touched him, and there was no sign of damage to Hermione's hands. Who had ever heard of an eight year old punching someone so powerfully anyway?

Jean was more worried about the boy teasing Hermione than the strange occurrence, but Hermione was reticent on the subject. Jean didn't know how to coax her daughter into confiding in her, and abandoned the attempt.

Another time, Hermione had been in the middle of a difficult end-of-year test when apparently a girl had started bothering her, tugging on her hair and whispering in her ear. Suddenly, Hermione's hair had wrapped around the girl's hand and refused to let go. The girl, screaming as the hair tightened around her wrist, had thrashed around, making Hermione squeal in pain. The hair immediately let go and seemed to recede back into Hermione's scalp, leaving a raw red mark on the wrist of Hermione's tormentor.

The best explanation Hermione had been able to come up with had been that the girl's hand must have been caught in a tangle of her hair. According to the teachers, these incidents didn't do wonders for Hermione's popularity. The children considered her to be a freak, a witch and a loony.

Jean, of course, believed her daughter to be perfectly normal, but she couldn't think of an explanation for the strange things she'd seen Hermione do herself.

One time, when Chris had been berating her daughter for getting a low grade on a paper, the report had suddenly give off a bright flash and shone an A+ in place of the large red C. Another time, when Hermione had gotten upset at her mother's berating over how she had incorrectly loaded the dishwasher, several dishes had flown out of the thing and smashed against the wall.

None of these oddities were explained until about two months before Hermione was to turn 12.

On that day, July 20th, Jean answered the door to find an austere woman with square spectacles and tightly knotted hair standing there. She was wearing a very conservative long sleeved dress and sensible shoes.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger," the woman said in a clipped voice. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am hear to see you about your daughter, Hermione."

"Why?" said Jean, taken aback.

"She has been accepted into our school."

"Hermione's down for the local private school…"

"Hermione is very unique. I would like to explain this matter to her in person," McGonagall interrupted. "Only a select few are accepted to our school, and once she hears about it, I doubt very much that she won't want to go. Please, may I see your daughter and husband?"

Bewildered and suspicious, Jean let the woman in and called Hermione and Chris to the living room. After Minerva McGonagall had settled in and been offered a drink, she turned to Hermione and said "Miss Granger, you are not like other children. I am sure you have noticed that when you are angry or scared, things you cannot explain tend to happen? Things you vaguely wanted and wished for in your anger and fear suddenly, with no warning, seem to manifest?"

"How do you-?" Hermione gasped, looking awed.

"I know this because I am like you. In fact, there is an entire sub-culture of people like you. We keep ourselves secret. We are called wizards, Miss Granger. And though your parents are not magically gifted, you are. You are a witch. And you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

She handed Hermione a letter. Hermione took it with shaking hands, her eyes wide with shock.

"Now hang on!" Chris yelled. "What are you on about? There's no such thing as magic! You can't just- we don't even know who you are- and you just come in here saying these things that are impossible!"

Hermione opened the envelope with difficulty, as her fingers were fumbling. McGonagall got to her feet.

"I know this is a bit of a shock," she said kindly. "If you allow me, I will give proof to back up my words. Brace yourselves."

And with a pop, the woman turned into a tabby cat.

Jean shrieked, Hermione jumped and Christopher stood there, his mouth slack. The cat walked a few steps forward, then suddenly transformed back to Minerva McGonagall.

It took a lot of explaining about how the wizards had been driven into hiding during the Middle Ages, how some wizards were born to Muggles (non magical people) and it probably meant they had another wizarding relative in their family tree (Jean remembered with a jolt a dotty old aunt of hers who had often had an air of mystery about her and didn't spend much time with the rest of the family, and how one time she's walked in on her aunt wearing strange robes…) and a detailed description of Hogwarts and it's subjects, not to mention quite a few more practical demonstrations of magic for this new information to really sink in for the Grangers. Jean felt as though she was about to pass out, her mind kept rejecting McGonagall's words despite the proof she offered. Chris was as white as a sheet.

Hermione, after the initial shock, seemed to accept it easily. "I knew there was something…odd about me…but I never imagined!" she said, her eyes shining happily. "You're sure it's not a mistake?"

"Quite sure, Miss Granger," McGonagall said with the barest hint of a smile. "You are qualified for Hogwarts in every respect."

Magical or not, Jean wasn't sure about sending her daughter to a strange boarding school. But then Hermione turned to her, her eyes sparkling with happy tears.

"Isn't this fantastic? It explains everything! For the first time in my life I'll fit in, I'll be with people like me! I won't be a freak! I won't have to hide who I am! I'll belong! I'll have FRIENDS!"

And what could Jean say to that? How could she deny her daughter such happiness?

Professor McGonagall escorted them to Diagon Alley, which was shocking in its strangeness. It was colorful and packed, hidden behind a dusty old pub. A whole underground world they didn't know about…it made Jean nervous and a bit sick. Hermione, however, was overjoyed. She was fascinated by all the shops and creatures and smells, and drank in McGonagall's running explanation of how everything worked.

A few people stared at the Grangers, clearly able to tell Jean and Chris were non-magical. Hermione may fit right in, but her parents did not. It made Jean feel like an out-of-place and alone. Was this how Hermione had felt before, in their world?

They purchased schoolbooks for Hermione, as well as cauldrons, potion ingredients and robes. Jean marveled at all this, it was as if she had walked into an old fairy tale. But the witches here weren't warty old hags, but ordinary looking and acting people, who included her own daughter. The last thing they got was Hermione's wand, which was vine wood, nine inches with a dragon heart string core. The man who gave it to Hermione, Olivander, was very odd. He had creepy eyes and seemed to have memorized every wand he'd ever sold.

McGonagall took them to Kings Cross to demonstrate how they'd enter the barrier to the secret platform at the Hogwarts Express and bid them good day. Jean could tell the strict old witch was, in her way, slightly fond of Hermione for the enthusiasm and desire to learn she'd shown.

When they got home, Hermione barricaded herself in her room, determined to learn every single spell by heart, leaving her parents to stare at each other in a stunned sort of way, each not quite believing the events of the day.

But despite their disbelief, the train for Hogwarts was undeniably real as it waited on the other side of the decidedly-not-solid barrier between platforms nine and ten. Jean hugged her daughter goodbye tightly, and though Hermione returned it, it couldn't be clearer she had no apprehensions about leaving her parents for this strange magical world. She bounded onto the train, and waved goodbye at her parents through the window as it sped away off the tracks. Her husband gripped Jean's hand tightly as they watched their daughter disappear.

Hermione wrote to them regularly. At first her letters were enthusiastic, describing her classes and teachers and schoolmates with great zeal. Jean had a hard time understanding half of what Hermione was saying about Potions and broomsticks and Houses. But she tried to be happy for her daughter.

However, it soon became clear Hermione was unhappy. Her comments became, once again, confined to her studies, and she wasn't describing any friends. Though she never talked about it, it soon became clear Hermione was as lonely at Hogwarts as she had been in the Muggle world.

Jean felt terrible. She has assumed that now she was among…people like her…that her daughter would for once in her life fit in and be content. But it appeared it was not just her magical genes that kept her apart from the other children. Jean ached for her daughter and wondered, once again, if it was her fault Hermione was an outcast.

However, at the end of October, everything changed. Suddenly Hermione's letters were full of Harry and Ron, Ron and Harry. Apparently, she had made two very good friends and spent all her time with them. She did not allude to what had bought her and the two boys together, merely saying they'd helped her out of a spot of trouble and she'd returned the favor. But there was no doubt that Hermione considered these boys to be loyal and kind, even if they didn't share her studious aspirations. According to Hermione, being around the boys was a constant adventure.

Looking back on the letters Hermione had sent, Jean found Harry and Ron described in the first few. Ron was described unflatteringly as a "lazy boy who thinks he's funny, but isn't" and Harry was apparently very famous. Hermione explained that when he was a baby, he'd been orphaned by a wizard serial killer named Voldemort. The wizard had turned on the one year old boy and attempted a deadly curse on him, only to have the curse rebound on himself. The wizard, presumably either dead or stripped of his power, had vanished, but the baby had been left with only a scar on his forehead. Hermione had initially described the boy as "more intelligent than his friend Ron, but still incredibly foolish and impulsive."

However, her descriptions now were more detailed. Harry was "unassuming and brave, despite a streak of mischief and hotheadedness." He was shy about his fame, and had apparently had not known who he was before going to Hogwarts, having been raised by a non-magical aunt and uncle who didn't treat him very well. He didn't know how he had conquered Voldemort that night, and appeared to be completely normal. Hermione said that despite the trauma in his past, he was very kind and always sticking up for people who were downtrodden.

Ron was also described more flatteringly now. He was "quite exasperating, but underneath his rough exterior, very loyal and protective of his friends." Hermione also admitted he was "sometimes funny" and felt overshadowed by his five brothers, who were all very accomplished.

Jean was delighted Hermione had found such good friends, and that she was at last feeling she belonged. Her letters, happier though they were, did come less often as Hermione got more comfortable with her surroundings. She talked about something that was hidden in the school that she and Harry and Ron were trying to find out about. Jean warned her not to meddle in the affairs of the teachers, and Hermione dropped the subject afterwards. Jean had a sneaking feeling she had not dropped it with her friends though. Oh well, you were only young once.

Hermione came to see them on Christmas, and when she was not studying, she chattered happily to her mother and father about Harry and Ron.

On Christmas Eve, she was sitting on the counter while her mother poured out eggnog, and was in the middle of explaining about Wizard's Chess when suddenly she asked, "Mum, do you have any idea who Nicholas Flamel is?"

"I'm afraid not," Jean said. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I didn't think you'd know," Hermione said dismissively. "It's something we've been wondering about, Ron, Harry and myself, I mean. Ha, it's funny, Ron asked me to ask you and Dad- I told him you were dentists. He didn't even know what those were! As if you two would know about anything magical…" she trailed off.

Jean could feel slightly hurt at her daughter's dismissiveness. "You're telling me wizards don't have dentists?"

"No, we can fix our teeth with magic," Hermione said. "Which reminds me, I was wondering if you'd let me shrink mine? I could get our school nurse to do it, I'm sure!" She ran her tongue gloomily across her overbite.

"Absolutely not," said Jean, shuddering as she remembered how her daughter had once made her schoolmate's own teeth fall out. "That's far too dangerous. Teeth are my jurisdiction; I don't want any wizard messing with them. Your teeth are lovely the way they are, you can have braces like your father did."

"That's not fair!" Hermione cried. "It's perfectly safe, and it would save a lot of trouble to not have to get braces!"

"I won't believe it's safe, Hermione, what if something went wrong? I'm a dentist, and that's my final word. Magic and teeth don't mix," Jean said firmly.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd bothered to understand anything, anything at all, about magic! About my world!" Hermione jumped off the counter, her cheeks reddening. "But you won't, will you? You won't bother to know anything about me!" And Hermione ran out of the room, leaving her mother flummoxed.

Hermione was cool to her mother the rest of the holiday, though she hugged her goodbye as usual before leaving for the train. Jean felt guilty, wondering if their might be truth in her daughters words. It was just very difficult…her daughter was immersed in a completely different culture, so mysterious and alien to Jean. Jean couldn't quite grasp it.

Soon the worries left Jean's mind, as she became immersed in her own work once more and her own world with Chris. Hermione came home for the summer in good spirits; she and her friends had earned several points for her House by helping the Headmaster out. She was initially vague on how she had done this, then she admitted she and her friends had discovered the thing that was hidden in the school was the Sorcerer's Stone, and had…she hesitated here "…well, we showed that the security measures that protected it were easily bypassed. So Dumbledore decided to, er, move the Stone out of the school. He was grateful we'd shown him his error."

"You had permission to do this demonstration though?" Chris asked his daughter, alarmed. "None of you were in danger?"

"Oh, yes, we had his permission in a way," Hermione assured her father. Jane noticed her daughter didn't answer the second question. Well, whatever Hermione had gotten up to, she clearly hadn't been hurt and had done a service to the school, and Jean trusted her daughter's good sense enough to believe she hadn't done anything really dangerous, or wasn't lying about something important.

Hermione did become worried that summer when Harry didn't write back to her.

"Perhaps he's not much of a writer?" Jean suggested.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother. "He's really lonely at the Dursley's, he practically BEGGED us to write to him. He wouldn't be ignoring our letters unless something was wrong. Oh, I just bet those awful people are doing something horrid to him."

Ron apparently shared Hermione's anxiety, as she reported to them at the start of August that Ron was planning to rescue Harry from the Dursleys.

"How do they plan to wrest him from his family without using magic? Surely they won't do anything illegal?" her father asked her.

"Oh, no, I'm sure they won't," but Jean noticed a panicked look in her daughter's eyes. "Well, I'm mostly sure. Half-sure…I'm going to write to Ron!"

Hermione zoomed out of the room. Chris looked disapproving, but Jean chuckled and called, "Ask him if his family and Harry would like to meet us at to get your school things next Wednesday!"

"Okay!" Hermione called back cheerily.

It turned out that the rescue of Harry had gone well and that the family could meet them all at Diagon Alley. So Jean and Chris found themselves being nervously led by a confident Hermione down the colorful alleyway, until their daughter spotted the hugest man Jean had ever seen, and squealed with delight.

Jean's reaction was quite a different squeal; the man was positively frightening, possibly more that eight feet tall, with a fierce hairy face.

"It's all right, Mum," Hermione said impatiently. "I've told you about Hagrid, he's a great friend! And look, he's got Harry!"

Indeed the man was dragging along a boy who looked positively pitiable. He was covered in soot with cracked glasses, skinny as a rail and he had messy black hair and pale face. Hermione ran to greet them, and Harry's face lit up with a huge smile when he saw her. His joy at her daughter's appearance was so genuine Jean couldn't help but feel a warm glow inside, even as she and Chris moved into the bank, afraid to get much closer to the giant man and disrupt their daughter's reunion with her friend.

Soon Hermione and Harry entered with a family of arguing redheads. The youngest boy, long, freckled and lanky, was tugging on Hermione's arm and chattering in her ear. Jean supposed this had to be Ron.

Hermione introduced the family as the Weasley's, and they were quickly pounced upon by the father, who seemed infinitely excited about how they were exchanging "Muggle money". Jean couldn't see why, she found it quite annoying that she had to exchange money to buy something in her own country, not did she like the sneer the Goblin gave her when he handled her ten pound notes.

"Mr. Weasley really likes Muggles," Hermione explained with a smile as they waited for the Weasley's to get back from their vault. "He thinks they're fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Jean snapped. She didn't much fancy being described like some ancient archeological find, or worse, a clever zoo animal.

"Oh, Mum, you know what I mean…here they come!" Hermione ran to greet the returning Weasleys.

Mr. Weasley immediately insisted on a drink, and as Hermione clearly wanted to go off with her friends, the Grangers agreed.

Mr. Weasley was clearly a very kind and inquisitive man, but his constant interrogation about every aspect of their Muggle lives was a bit wearing as they sipped the odd tasting firewhisky. Seeing that her husband, who'd never had any patience, was getting restless, Jean quickly began questioning Arthur about the magical world. Though clearly disappointed, Arthur obliged nicely enough to the subject change and it was pretty interesting to listen to him explain the different aspects of the Ministry.

Soon, Mr. Weasley escorted them to the wizard bookstore, where the pair of them found their daughter mooning over a very handsome (and apparently famous) blonde wizard. Jean had to admit he was quite attractive, and perhaps she stared at him a little too long, as Chris began to glare at her.

Gilderoy Lockhart was apparently a famous adventurer who'd written several books, and when he saw Hermione's famous friend, Harry, he yanked him out of the crowd and insisted on a picture. The boy flushed deeply and looked like he'd desire nothing more to escape the spotlight, and Jean could see Hermione was right about her friend being unassuming and adverse to attention.

He fought his way free soon enough, but not before getting some free books, which Jean saw he quickly offered to the Weasley girl, dumping them in her cauldron and offered her. Jean thought this was very kind, from what she'd gleaned from Hermione; the Weasley's weren't well off.

However the two children were cut off by a venomous looking platinum-blond boy with a pale, pointed face. Hermione, seeing this, quickly fought her way to Harry's side with her friend Ron. Jean watched this scene nervously, wondering if this was the Malfoy boy Hermione said was so rude to her and her friends. She wondered whether she ought to interfere, or if that would make things worse for Hermione.

Thankfully, Mr. Weasley came over before Jean could make up her mind. Or perhaps not so thankfully, as the minute Arthur got involved, a man with sleek blond hair materialized. He was clearly the father of the boy who had been taunting Harry, and he looked none too friendly toward Arthur Weasley.

Jean and Chris edged a little closer in apprehension, just in time for Mr. Malfoy to look at them. He gave a horrible sneer. "…And I thought your family could sink no lower," he said to Mr. Weasley, his eyes still fixed malevolently on Jean and Chris.

And Mr. Weasley dived at the man, knocking him into the bookshelves. Jean shrieked and Hermione rushed towards her mother, chivvying her family out of the way. She had drawn her wand and was holding her arms in front of her parents protectively, as though afraid a straggler might attack them. Mrs. Weasley was shrieking at her husband, while his twin boys egged him on. Then suddenly the giant man appeared out of nowhere, pulling the two men apart. Chris gave a squeak of terror and Hermione shushed him.

As Malfoy thrust a book at the Weasley girl and left, Hermione quickly ushered her parents out of the shop. Jean found she was shaking.

"Why did he look at us like that?" she whispered to her daughter. "What did he mean when he referred to us as that way?"

"I'll explain later," Hermione muttered. She was still acting protective of them, gripping her mother's arm very hard. It felt to Jean for a second as if the roles had reversed, and that Hermione was the one protecting her mother from the nastier aspects of life, not the other way around…

Halfway up the street, her daughter finally put away her wand. Mrs. Weasley was berating Mr. Weasley for his behavior quite loudly. Jean couldn't say she was sorry to say goodbye to Diagon Alley, nor that she was sorry that Mrs. Weasley cut Arthur off when he tried to ask them how bus stops worked.

"Are you two all right?" Hermione asked as they strolled across the dismal London street.

"Of course we are," Jean said firmly. She was tired of Hermione mothering her when clearly it should be the other way around. "Now, I want you to explain what went on in there, young lady. What problem did Mr. Malfoy have with us?"

"Well, the Malfoy's are really foul. They think they're better than everyone else," Hermione explained sadly. "And I expect his problem was…well, you're Muggles."

"So?" Chris asked. They settled in the darkening pub. Chris ordered a brandy for himself and Jean and a soda for Hermione.

"I don't know. Some wizards just look down on Muggles, because you're well, not magically skilled. They just think of Muggles as lesser."

"So in your world, your mum and I are…are scorned?" Chris said indignantly. Jane felt her stomach drop a few inches. She'd met a few sexist people in her time, but that was the worst she'd ever encountered as far as prejudice, being white and upper class. The way Mr. Malfoy had looked at her, like she was something dirty and depraved…to think that she was considered primitive by the people in this world Hermione inhabited…

"It's not like that," Hermione said hastily. "It's just horrible people like the Malfoy's! You heard Hagrid, they're just bad."

"What about that Weasley man? He talked to us like…like we were clever little monkeys!" Chris complained.

Hermione flushed slightly at this, and her eyes narrowed angrily. "How could you say that? He got into that fight because he was defending you against Mr. Malfoy! He's genuinely interested in Muggles as another culture. You know, how some people are obsessed with…say, Japanese culture? It's the same as that!"

"If you say so," Mr. Granger grumbled.

Hermione turned away from her father, looking hurt and confused.

"Hermione, you have to understand," Jean said softly. "It's…difficult for us."

"And you think it's not for me?" Hermione whispered softly.

"You keep referring to it as 'your world', angel," Chris said in an unusually soft voice. "Like you're not a part of ours anymore. That scares your mum a bit, I think. And me," he admitted.

Hermione turned back towards them, wiping her eyes. "I know, Dad. I'm trying my best." She gave them a quivering smile, and they left it at that.

Despite these words, Hermione could hardly wait to get off to Hogwarts. Her letters that year were even more infrequent, as if she was preoccupied with something, though the first letter did rage a bit about Harry and Ron arriving in a flying car. She even opted to stay for Christmas, telling them she had "a really important project for Potions she had to be at the castle to complete." Though disappointed, Jean and Chris always encouraged their daughter to focus on her studies, so they allowed it.

But later that year, they received a horrible shock. Jean answered the door on a balmy day in April to find a tall, old thin man standing there. His appearance was unusual to say the least; he had a ridiculously long white beard, wore half moon glasses and had on a flamboyant plumb suit.

"Mrs. Granger," He bowed courteously. "I apologize if my appearance shocks you. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts School."

Jean immediately let him in. Dumbledore did match the description Hermione had given.

"Is something wrong?" she said anxiously, after calling for Christopher and settling her guest in the living room.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Unfortunately, your daughter has been Petrified. It is a state similar to what you would call a coma, except the victim is frozen like a statue. But let me assure you, she will be cured in no time, Madam Pomfrey is whipping up a Mandrake Restorative for the victims that will make her good as new."

Chris gasped, and Jean clapped her hands to her mouth. Dumbledore conjured them some brandy.

"I am truly sorry," he said.

"Who did this to her?" Chris squeaked.

"We are not sure. The culprit has petrified others, including our caretaker's cat. However, I assure you I will not rest until he is caught. We do not allow things like this in Hogwarts."

"I should hope not!" Chris said angrily, but Jean asked, "You say she'll be cured…?"

"Within two months, I assure you."

"Can we see her?"

"Alas, I do not think you should enter the castle, you would be in great danger…" Dumbledore said. "However, I can allow you to look in on your daughter as she is now."

Dumbledore flicked his wand and the Grangers were suddenly staring at a suspended image of their daughter, who was indeed frozen like a statue on a hospital bed. She had a faintly surprised look on her face, her fists were clenched and her eyes were glassy. Standing next to her bed were her friends Harry and Ron, Harry was in scarlet robes and looking shocked and forlorn. Ron looked positively despairing. A witch they recognized as McGonagall was showing the two a mirror.

"She was found with it," said Dumbledore softly. "She was in the library, along with another Muggle-born girl, Penelope Clearwater."

"Muggle-borns? Are Muggle-borns being specifically attacked?" Jean asked quickly, still sickened by the sight of her daughter frozen and helpless.

"Yes, it would appear so," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "It is an unfortunate prejudice an unenlightened few have, that Muggle-borns are somehow…lesser. It's quite asinine, as most wizards are related to Muggles whether they admit it or not. And anyone who knows your daughter, who is intelligent and a good friend, would be deluding themselves if they think she is in any way below another wizard," Dumbledore finished kindly.

Jean nodded slightly to show she acknowledged the compliment. Her nails were digging into her wrists as her mind reeled. She has knowingly sent her daughter into a place where people hated her simply for being related to them and her daughter was now in a …a coma-like state because of it. What kind of mother was she?

"If you don't have any more questions," Dumbledore said, flicking his wand so the image of their frozen daughter vanished, "I must get back to Hogwarts. The situation needs my attention. I can only assure you again your daughter will be cured in no time. I am sure her friends will consent to take notes on the lessons she misses, and she will be excused from exams. She'll be able to become a third year at the same time as her classmates, and I'm sure she'll have no trouble catching up."

Dumbledore got up to leave, but he'd only taken a step when Chris interrupted him.

"If you think we're letting our daughter come back to your school after you've let this happen to her, you're mad," he said in a shaky voice.

Dumbledore stopped, and turned to face them again.

"I understand your concern," he said quietly. "However, your daughter seems very happy at Hogwarts. It is true that there's always a bit of a risk in the magical world, even without the unfortunate prejudice Miss Granger faces. But to live is to take risks, and withdrawing Hermione from Hogwarts will not make her any safer. At Hogwarts she learns to defend and protect herself, as well as her friends and her family. For her to hide amongst non magical people will not make her any safer from the dangers of magic, as our societies are not entirely separate. It will merely make her less prepared and alert."

He gave the couple a penetrating stare and continued, "Not to mention that I imagine it would be difficult and unpleasant for her to struggle to reintegrate herself back into Muggle society after she has been amongst wizards to do not fear, but encourage her abilities. Your daughter is who she is. Suppressing that won't be doing her a favor. I should also mention Hermione has made very good friends in Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Those three are inseparable, and they are very protective of each other, I doubt they would take being parted very well."

Jean didn't know quite what to say to this, and remained silent after Dumbledore finished his speech. Chris opened his mouth but didn't say anything.

Dumbledore let the silence linger for a few moments, and then continued softly. " Of course, ultimately it is your decision. I just hope you will consider my words. Let me once again assure you I am doing my utmost to catch your daughter's attacker. The safety of my students is my priority, and such attacks are an extreme rarity at Hogwarts. I am sorry I had to upset you with such news. I will owl you when your daughter awakens. But I really must be getting back."

He paused again, presumably to allow them to say goodbye, but Jean found she could not speak, and Chris did not seem to want to. So Dumbledore nodded at them smartly, saying "Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

He turned on the spot, and vanished with a loud crack that made both Jean and Chris jump.

They stared at the spot where the venerable old man had vanished for some time, and then Chris came over and held his wife's shaking hand. They did not talk, but sat there, silently comforting each other.

The silence about the subject continued over the next two months. They did not discuss their daughter or whether they should send her back for third year once she recovered. Jean wasn't sure what to think. They received no update on Hermione's condition, and to distract herself from worry about Hermione Jean buried herself in work more than ever. Chris seemed to react to same way, though Jean sometimes saw him staring into space, looking sullen and distraught. Some nights they both lay awake, the unspoken concern for their daughter, frozen like a statue miles away, hanging between them.

At last, they receive a note from the school. It was not from Dumbledore, but from Professor McGonagall, who informed them the cure (apparently something called Mandrakes) was finally ready and Hermione and the others would be awakened that night. Jean felt relieved, but still a little anxious. What if the cure didn't work?

However, the next day they received another letter, this time from Dumbledore.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_I am pleased to inform you that your daughter has successfully been awoken from her Petrified State thanks to the Mandrake Restorative Draught. She will meet you at Platform 9 ¾ off the Hogwarts Express tomorrow as planned._

_What is more, your daughter contributed greatly to the apprehending of the culprit behind the attacks of Muggle-borns, by figuring about the method through which he attacked students. Her research was discovered by her friends Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, who used the information to eradicate both the culprit behind the attacks as well as the monstrous beast he was controlling. _

_This admirable accomplishment allowed her to earn several points for Gryffindor, along with the round one hundred points her friends earned. This is the second year in a row those three have secured the Cup for their House._

_Thanks to the heroic actions of Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and your daughter, Hogwarts is now perfectly safe again, and there is no reason you should feel you cannot send your daughter back._

_Wishing you well._

_Albus Dumbledore._

"She's okay!" Jean cried, dropping the letter and hugging her husband.

"Not only that, she helped catch the culprit!" Chris said in awe. "She's a regular detective."

"She's doing well for herself in that school, isn't she?" Jean had to admit, after she had wiped her eyes.

"She did well for herself in primary school, and she wasn't attacked by her monster there," Chris said darkly, as he got out some celebratory wine.

_No, she was the one doing the attacking in primary school. _Jean couldn't help thinking. _Because the other kids taunted her so. _But she didn't say this to Chris.

They met a beaming Hermione off the Hogwarts express the next day. She was waving goodbye to Ron and Harry, the latter of whom was being led away by an unpleasant mustached man, when Jean scooped her up in a hug.

"I was so worried!" She said, her voice slightly muffled by Hermione's hair. Chris stood there gruffly, having never been one for hugs. Hermione gently detached herself from her mother.

"Mum, honestly, it's okay," Hermione assured them. "I'm fine."

"You were frozen like a statue," Chris said tersely.

"Yes, I didn't feel a thing. Let's go to the car," Hermione suggested.

They did so, and Hermione fended off all their questions until they reached the house. She got her parents some coffee, and sat them down in the living room.

"Tell us everything," Jean said firmly.

"Well, there were these attacks on Muggle-borns. Nobody knew how they were happening. I mean, it was suspected to be a monster in this secret chamber under the school. But nobody knew how to find it as that was supposed to be a myth."

"People were being attacked? Why didn't you mention this in your letters?" Chris said sharply.

"I didn't want to worry you," Hermione mumbled. When her parents glared at her, she said "I'm sorry! I know it was wrong."

"Hermione, I want you to be honest with us," Jean told her sternly.

"I know. It won't happen again," Hermione said heavily. Clearly eager to change the subject, she continued her tale. "Well, Harry kept hearing these strange voices in the walls. Also, there were spiders acting oddly around the school, and roosters being killed. The thing is, Harry has this rare ability to talk to snakes."

Chris made a noise of shock at this, but Hermione ignored them.

"That's when I realized, it must be a basilisk! They're these huge serpents and their gaze is fa-petrifying. Spiders fear them, and the cry of the rooster is fatal to them, which explains why the roosters were being killed. And Harry heard the voices because the basilisk was traveling through the pipes! I went up to the library to confirm the theory, and then I was attacked. But I'd ripped out the library book page about the basilisk."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Harry and Ron found the page in my while visiting me in the hospital wing. They had figured out where the chamber was located. So they went down, and it turned out the culprit behind everything was an enchanted diary. It contained an enchantment from a Muggle hating boy called Tom Riddle, who grew up to actually be, er, the man who killed Harry's parents."

"What?" Jean squaked. "That Voldemort fellow?"

Hermione winced slightly at the name. "Yes. But he really isn't back, it's an enchantment. Anyway, the diary had po- enchanted Ron's sister, Ginny, and made her do all these horrible things. But Harry saved Ginny and not only destroyed the diary, but also killed the basilisk," Hermione finished happily. "And now the school is safe again

"He killed a basilisk?" Chris asked incredulously.

"He used a sword. Harry's talented like that," Hermione said in a matter of fact sort of way.

Her parent stared at her.

"Anyway, everything turned out all right in the end," Hermione spouted cheerfully. Seeing that her parents were not altogether reassured, she said "things like this never happen at Hogwarts. _Never."_

"Except this year," Jean pointed out.

"Well, yes," Hermione said awkwardly.

There was a pause in which Mr. and Mrs. Granger simply looked at their daughter.

"Hermione," Chris said finally. "I don't think you should go back to Hogwarts."

"NO!" Hermione yelled, jumping up from the couch. She looked simply horrified. "You can't! I belong at Hogwarts! I have friends, best friends, good friends, for the first time in my life! I can learn magic and I'm really good at it too, I'm top in my year and I don't like an outcast!"

"You were never an outcast!" Chris said forcefully. Hermione snorted.

Jean said softly, "Hermione, the fact is you've been attacked. More importantly, you aren't being honest with us. You didn't tell us any of this was going on with your school."

"I said I was sorry!" Hermione cried, her face flushed and her eyes bright. "I promise I will tell you nothing but the truth from now on! I swear! Just please let me stay! I can't bear it, the thought of giving Hogwarts up! It's a part of me."

"I don't care," Chris began. "The fact is-

"THE FACT IS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR ME!" Hermione burst out, angry tears sparkling in her eyes. Suddenly, the coffee Chris was holding shot out of the cup like a bullet, splashing on the ceiling. Hermione screeched, as did Chris.

"Oh my God," she said, clapping her hands to my mouth. "Oh no, I lost control…" she looked around wildly in the air. After a few minutes, she stopped, looking both relieved and ashamed. "No owl. It must have been too minor. Oh, I can't believe I did that…" Their daughter was shaking badly.

She turned to her mother and her father, who was dripping with brown liquid. "Do you see?" She said, with forced calm, smoothing her clothes. "I'll never be able to fit in at a Muggle school. I need to learn to control my magic, or I'm a danger to myself. I need to be able to defend myself," she echoed Dumbledore. "I need Hogwarts."

Jean and Chris exchanged a silent look. Their daughter certainly knew how to use logic against them. Jean had already been half convinced by Dumbledore that Hermione should return to the school, and seeing her daughter so vehemently attached to the place had further eroded her reluctance.

"So, you're definitely happy at Hogwarts?" Jean asked her daughter gently.

Hermione nodded. "Harry and Ron accept me for who I am. They like me. And I don't get teased very much here. By the Gryffindors that is. Well, except for Ron." She smiled crookedly. "I…belong there."

The Grangers stared at their daughter. She looked back at them.

Finally she whispered, "Please let me go back." A tear slid down her cheek.

The choice, Jean reflected, was whether she wanted her daughter to be completely happy, or completely safe. But no one was ever completely safe, as Dumbledore had reminded them. And trying to suppress their daughter would be a losing battle. Hermione was far too determined and passionate to stand for that.

She exchanged a look of silent agreement with her husband. Then she sighed and got up, returning with a towel for Chris, who began to mop himself up. She turned to face her daughter.

."Very well. I- I can see it's important to you," she found herself stammering a bit, looking into her daughter dark and shining eyes, which were still full of tears. She felt so very tired, so very apart from the remarkable young lady sitting in front of her. An idea occurred to Jean. "Let's- Let's just take a nice vacation. Be together. Forget all this. Recover."

Hermione grinned and threw herself at her parents.

"What about France?" she asked.

"France sounds wonderful," said Jean said.

The vacation didn't turn out to be quite the bonding experience Jean had hoped for. Hermione was more interested in the Wizarding history in the place than anything else, and was always rushing back to fill out her school reports with new facts she had learned. Chris approved of this diligence, and Jean supposed she did too, though she wished she had more opportunities to talk to her daughter. However, they did get to share a few laughs. Hermione adored the Catacombs and the Eiffel Tower, spending the whole time chattering to her mother about the breathtaking glory of the sights. So Jean felt slightly closer to her daughter when they arrived back in England.

Almost immediately Hermione arranged to meet up with Ron in Diagon Alley. The Grangers once again nervously escorted her there, though they would just be dropping her off as she had arranged to stay with the Weasleys.

When they arrived, they were immediately accosted by Ron.

"How was Egypt?" Hermione asked him after he clapped her on the back rather awkwardly in greeting.

"Cool! There were mutant mummies!" the boy replied enthusiastically.

"Did you learn anything?"

"Of course not!"

"Sorry, forgot who I was talking to. Mum, Dad, here's Ron again," Hermione said to them.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Granger!" Ron greeted them cheerfully.

"Hello, Ron. You went to Egypt?" Jean asked.

"Yeah, we won some money, so we went to visit my brother Bill. He's a Curse Breaker there. Oh yeah, hey, Hermione, guess what? Harry's here!"

"What?" exclaimed Hermione. "How on earth did he escape the Dursleys?"

"He blew up his aunt.

"WHAT?" Hermione and her parents cried together.

"Not** exploded** blew up, _inflated_ blew up," Ron said hastily. "She must have been being pretty nasty… He got angry and accidentally did magic and then ran away here. But he didn't get punished at all!"

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Beats me. Probably because he's the "Boy Who Lived", you know, we all owe our very existence to him and all that," Ron said loftily. "Anyway, Dad says he should be here somewhere, we just have to find them."

Hermione hugged her parents goodbye and they went off. Hermione pulled out her booklist and her parents heard Ron say, "Jeez, Hermione, are you trying to start your own library?"

The Grangers left Diagon Alley, Jean once again feeling very pleased her daughter had found such good friends, even if they were a bit mischievous.

Hermione's letters were more infrequent than ever, due to the extra workload she'd taken on that year. Apparently she'd actually applied to get a device that allowed her to go back in time to take extra classes, which boggled Jean's mind a bit. However, she was proud her daughter was putting the most amount of effort possible into her schoolwork.

They got a letter shortly before Christmas.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I need to stay for Christmas at Hogwarts. Harry can't go home to the Dursleys because they hate him, so he's stuck at Hogwarts for the holiday. Harry will be all alone and he's already depressed about not being able to go to Hogsmeade. Ron and I have agreed to stay and keep Harry company._

_Also, I need the library to study. My workload is simply enormous!_

_Please let me stay?_

_Love from,_

_Hermione._

"We should let her stay," Jean sighed. "The poor kid needs company."

Chris agreed, but Jean knew he must share with her the feeling that Hermione was drifting ever further away from them.

Jean began to worry a bit for Hermione when her letters began to suggest the workload was taking huge toll on her. She was even fighting with Harry and Ron, apparently there was tension about the cat Hermione had gotten for her birthday always going after Ron's rat. Hermione was also worried about her friend Hagrid's "hippogriff" (apparently some cross between a bird and horse) being executed too.

The letters became shorter, shakier and more snappish as time went on. Jean felt a twinge of guilt, she and Chris had always pressured Hermione to do well in school, and now it looked as if Hermione was taking it a bit too far. But could she really encourage her daughter to stop doing her very best? Her desire for Hermione to be a top student and her concern for her daughter's happiness warred inside her, and she was ashamed to admit she could never quite bring herself to write to Hermione and advise her to drop a class, not least because of fear of getting a scathing reply, and because of Chris's staunch support of Hermione's diligence.

Fortunately, things righted themselves on their own. Hermione made up with her friends, and she came to her senses by herself and dropped two classes. Even the hippogriff survived, thanks to what Hermione described as "a last minute save Harry and I managed to pull off in the nick of time.

But Jean's guilt intensified when Hermione came home for the summer looking tired and haggard. She'd clearly suffered a lot of stress in the last year. She was cheerful enough though, and she introduced her parents to Crookshanks. Chris, who had never been much of a cat lover, wandered off while Jean cooed over the fluffy creature in the kitchen as Hermione watched proudly.

"He's VERY intelligent," Hermione said while Jean scratched the cat behind the ears.

"Does he require a lot of feeding?" Jean asked. She'd never had a pet of her own in her life; her own parents hadn't allowed her. But she'd always been a bit enchanted with animals. Despite the ugliness of the cat Hermione had chosen, he had a certain charm. He purred as she stroked him, pacing back and forth across the kitchen table and occasionally butting his head against Hermione's hand to encourage her to join in the affection.

"Yes, he's very demanding. Honestly, I really shouldn't feed him so much. He gets enough for himself hunting on the grounds." Hermione pause for a second, and then added, "He's an _excellent _mouser" while giving the oddest smile.

"Yes, and didn't that cause trouble in the beginning of the year with your friend Ron?" Jean reminded her daughter. "Because of his rat?"

Hermione's brown eyes widened slightly. "You remember me writing that?"

"I _do _read your letters, and I'm not so old that my memories going," Jean replied, rolling her eyes.

Hermione smiled slightly and suddenly put her hand over Jean's. Touched by this small gesture of affection, Jean smiled back at her daughter. Before the moment could go any further, Crookshanks interrupted it with a demanding meow, angry that the petting had stopped. Hermione giggled and withdrew her hand.

"Of course, I didn't get _quite _as many letters as the year went on," Jean said pointedly.

"I know, Mum. It was just the extra classes, you know that. I'll do better next year. Yes, Crookshanks really went after Scabbers and that did cause a lot of trouble. But it, er, won't be a problem anymore. Scabbers sort of…ran away."

"Ran away?" Jean said, glancing at the cat on the table with raised eyebrows. "You're sure Crookshanks didn't…"

"No. Ron thought he did. We even had a big row about it. But after we'd made up…well, we spotted Scabbers at Hagrid's hut." She took a deep breath, looking sad. "And then…the rat ran off again. Sometimes…sometimes pets aren't as loyal as you think they are"

Hermione looked mournful. Jean couldn't quite understand it, nor did she think it was entirely over a runaway rat. But she didn't want to push.

"Well, I think your pet is loyal," Jean said, breaking the silence. She pointed at Crookshanks who was now nudging Hermione's hand harder than ever. "For as long as you're the hand that strokes him!"

Hermione laughed and scratched her cat under the chin. "That's certainly the truth."

Jean spent the rest of the day lavishing affection on the cat, and Chris spent the rest of the day avoiding it.

"Cats are a waste of space," he told his wife that night. "All they do is demand attention and don't offer anything in return. At least you can make a dog follow orders. I always thought Hermione was more of a dog person. She values loyalty."

"She's also intelligent and independent," Jean said loftily. "That's a cat person. "

_But she's no rat person, that's for sure. _Jean thought, shaking her head.

As cats are wont to do when they know a person doesn't like them, Crookshanks followed Chris around constantly. Hermione and Jean found it highly amusing, especially when Crookshanks sat on Chris's newspaper.

Hermione slept a lot over the summer, apparently making up for lost time. The rest helped her to regain her color in time to be invited to the Quidditch World Cup (which she explained to them, was a sport played on broomstick Harry and Ron were absolutely obsessed with) by her friend Ron Weasley and was picked up by the ever-excitable Mr. Weasley to be taken to his house via fireplace.

Her letters that year told of an exciting tournament and foreign students. They didn't see her again until the next summer due to a Yule Ball at Christmas. The Hermione that returned was a different person. She was much quieter than usual and much more withdrawn and she seemed worried about something. Several times she would open her mouth to tell them something, but then close it.

Speaking of mouths, a bit of a row ensued when they saw Hermione had shrunken her teeth. Hermione pulled the "you don't understand" card again, which annoyed Jean and Chris, but they couldn't keep their anger up long. It had worked out fine after all, and it was expected for Hermione to do things like this. Teenagers were rebellious, even sensible ones like Hermione. At least it wasn't a piercing or a tattoo.

The thing that actually scared Mrs. Granger was when she passed Hermione's room and saw Hermione sitting on her bed.

There was a great sadness in her eyes as she read the letter she was holding, but also a hardness, a bravery, a determined jut of her chin. With a shock, Jean found it was as if she wasn't really looking at someone who was almost sixteen. She saw someone much older in her daughter's face. Hermione has always been mature for her age, but now it was as if she had the eyes of an adult. Her eyes looked like they had seen pain and suffering, had seen things that made them weary and sad. She finished the letter, put it down and then slumped as if the burdens of the world were on her shoulders. Then she sighed, shook her head as if to clear it and flopped back on her bed. Mrs. Granger came in.

"Hello, Hermione."

"Oh, hi, Mum," Hermione answered. The hard look was still in her eyes, but she also seemed a bit uncertain as she looked up.

"Who was the letter from?" Jean asked.

"The letter? Oh! That was from Harry. He's a bit down, you know. The Dursleys are so cruel. He hates being with them."

A horrible thought struck Mrs. Granger, an idea as to why Hermione may have looked so adult as she read Harry's letter.

"Hermione? Er, _how_ cruel are the Dursleys? Do they-do they hit Harry?"

Hermione looked startled.

"Hit Harry? Oh, no! They never have. When he was younger, from what I can tell, they'd make him sleep in a cupboard and let Dudley (Harry's cousin) beat him up and sometimes make him go without food, but now that he's in Hogwarts, they're scared, so he's got a bedroom and Dudley doesn't touch him. No, he's just fed up with them. They ignore him and say nasty things and they won't let him watch the news and Dudley's beating up the neighborhood children, small ones, ten years old and that sort. It's really upset Harry because Dudley used to do that to him, well, he's never actually come out and said that Dudley used to beat him up, I mean, I can tell though, it's implied and he-"

"Why does Harry want to watch the news?" Jean said, cutting off her daughter's babbling.

"Oh," said Hermione, turning red. "Oh, you know, he just likes to-Oh, look at the time! I'd best get ready for bed!" And she bustled off, pulling out her nightdress and giving her mother the clear message she was through confiding in her.

About two weeks into the summer, Hermione announced she had to go to Ron's.

"But you've only been here two weeks!" Mr. Granger exclaimed. "You can go to Ron's later, why don't you stay here a bit longer?"

Hermione looked around the room desperately, and then seemed to steel herself.

"Please. You two are always at work," she told them coldly. " I have no one here to hang around with. I miss Ron. He's going through a hard time at the moment, and I want to be with him. I feel lonely and out of place here," she finished harshly.

A ringing silence followed these words. Hermione didn't look at them, biting her lip.

"You wanted be to be honest with you," Hermione told them as she studied the ceiling. "I'm being as honest as I can allow myself to be."

"I…can take time off work," Jean said weakly.

"No. Work is important to you," Hermione said automatically. "Please, just let me go to Ron's. I like spending time with you, but…well, like I said, the Weasleys are going through a hard time. I really need to be with them."

"Okay," Chris sighed. Jean wasn't quite convinced, but she said nothing. Hermione nodded at them, looking relieved, and walked out of the room, leaving her parents in miserable silence.

Once again, Mr. Weasley came with Ron to pick her up via fireplace. Though Mr. Weasley gushed over their telly, radio and other electrical (or ekilectrical, as Mr. Weasley called them) objects as usual, he seemed oddly tense, as did Ron. They left fairly quickly, as if there was some sense of urgency about the proceedings. Jean wondered if she was imagining these things, or if Hermione, despite her promise of honesty, was keeping secrets from them.

Determined after Hermione's little speech to spend more time with her, Jean and Chris arranged a skiing trip with their daughter over Christmas. Hermione seemed okay with the idea, but just before they were to set off, they received a letter from her.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sorry, but I can't come home this year. OWL's are coming up. They're really important, huge exams. They'll affect what kind of job I get and everything. So I need to be really prepared and everyone who wants to do well on them is staying at Hogwarts for Christmas and I wouldn't have time to study during the skiing trip or access to the library. So I need to stay here if I don't want to fail the OWL's._

_Please let me stay?_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

The Grangers read the letter silently.

"Well," Chris sighed. "We want her to do well."

"Oh, please, Christopher," Jean snapped. "She's top of her year! She's a prefect! It's Christmas, she needs a break!"

"Well, I for one want her scores to be perfect!" Chris said sternly.

Suddenly, Jean was besieged with memories. She remembered that time Hermione had been so upset over Chris's berating her over her bad grade she had magically changed her grade from a C to an A+. How they had fired questions about science and literature and timed Hermione's answers over dinner. How they had urged her to do extra credit even when she got the highest grade possible on the original assignment. How they'd encouraged her to study 24/7 if a test was coming up. With a jolt, she remembered the time turner in third year, how Hermione had run herself ragged trying to get impossibly good grades and how Jean had been too cowardly to tell her daughter to stop it and to slow down.

"We did this to her," Jean whispered.

"Did what?!" Christopher cried indignantly. "Encouraged her to do well?

"No, we made her obsessed. Made her fear failure. Made her think anything below perfect was…not good enough."

"Oh, rubbish, Jean. We just want our daughter to do her best! Look at her now! Prefect, top of the class! She got there by hard work. I'm giving her permission to stay."

"She's drifting away from us, Christopher! And we are doing nothing about it! She's becoming an adult and we don't even see it!"

Mr. Granger stared at her.

"We're losing her, Chris," Jean finished weakly.

Mr. Granger looked into her eyes and she knew he knew it was true, that he was scared too.

He sat down, wrote a few sentences and tied the letter to the owl. As it flew off, he said, "She'll tell us when she's ready." And Jean realized her husband too had sensed Hermione was keeping secrets from them.

When Hermione came home that summer, she was even more subdued. She was quiet and she didn't smile much. She still had that hard sadness in her eyes and she seemed frightened most of the time. Sometimes when she moved too quickly, she winced as if in pain. Mrs. Granger thought she heard a scream tearing through the air in the middle of the night one night, coming from Hermione's room. Thinking Hermione might be having a nightmare, she checked her room, but Hermione was asleep…or pretending to be.

Two odd incidents happened that summer.

The first was when she caught Hermione staring at a newspaper article as if frozen. She was mouthing something. Jean tried to read her lips.

She appeared to be mouthing "Hose in one" or something like that. Her eyes registered absolute terror.

"It's true," Hermione said faintly. "I know it is. It makes…sense.

"Hermione?"

Hermione jumped and squeaked "Mum! Er, I've got to nip up to my room." And she ran out of the room with her lip trembling. She didn't come out for a very long time and when she did she was shaky and her face was wet as if she had splashed water on it.

Jean didn't question her, remembering Christopher's words, "She'll tell us when she's ready."

The other curious incident was when Jean passed Hermione's room and saw her shedding her T shirt. As she pulled the shirt over her head, her body stretched out and Jean saw an ugly puffy scar stretching across her ribs.

"Oh my God-Hermione!"

Hermione whipped around.

"What's the matter, Mum?"

"That-that horrible scar! How did you get it?"

"Oh," Hermione said, slowly turning back around and sliding off her bra. "That."

"What do you mean, "Oh, that!""

"Well, I got it a while ago," Hermione said, pulling her nightdress on over her jeans and clearly playing for time. "I, er, got-too close…to the Whomping Willow."

"The Whomping…Willow."

"It's a tree that, er, hits people with its branches. Madam Pomfrey fixed it so it doesn't hurt. But you can't get rid of scars. Even with magic."

"Of course you can. Even people without magic get rid of scars with plastic surgery," Jean said dismissively.

"You can't. You can never _really_ get rid of them," Hermione explained and once again she looked wise beyond her years.

"If it doesn't hurt, then how come you've been wincing all summer?"

"I haven't," Hermione said simply, stepping out of her jeans.

"Hermione, that scar isn't really from the Whomping Willow, is it?

"Of course it is," Hermione said briskly. "Now excuse me, but I have to go brush my teeth."

Jean watched her daughter go, suddenly feeling very cold. If you could never really get rid of scars, how many did her daughter have?

Once again, after two weeks, Hermione said she had to leave again. She babbled on about Ron having an accident, that she had to go and see him and before they could even blink, she'd hugged them both goodbye, thrown some Floo Powder into the fire, shouted, "The Burrow!" and whooshed away.

That Christmas, Hermione bestowed on them the honor of actually spending the holiday with them. She gave Jean the even greater honor of confiding in her about her problems with Ron, about how she had asked him to the Christmas party and he'd agreed to go with her, only suddenly he'd gotten angry with her and kissed Lavender Brown! Now they were having a huge row and Harry was in the middle of it.

"Do you have a crush on Ron?" Jean asked her.

"Well, I DID, I think," Hermione said sourly. "And I was so sure he liked me back, Mum! He was never exactly subtle, what with the jealousy of Viktor and everything! That's why I asked him to go to the party with me. But…I guess I was wrong."

"I think he does like you, Hermione. I think he's trying to make you jealous."

"Why though? I'd asked him out, it was obvious I fancied him!"

"I don't know, honey, men can be odd sometimes. Maybe there's another factor we're not aware of."

"How could he do that, though? How could he hurt me like that?"

"I know it's hard, Hermione, but I think you should make it up with Ron. You've been friends too long to let a thing like this destroy your friendship."

"That's what Harry says too," Hermione sighed.

"Well, Harry's right," Jean said.

"Yes, well, Harry also says that the librarian and the caretaker are involved in a sordid love affair, where they use the restricted section of the library as their headquarters to snog and plot world domination, but I doubt he's right about that."

Jean snorted, "Well, I still think you should call a truce with Ron."

"NO. He started it. Okay, so I cursed him, but he deserved it."

"You WHAT?" Jean cried.

"Oh, Mum, I was in a room alone and Harry was trying to be comforting when Ron burst in holding Lavenders hand and I just lost it."

"What did you do?"

"I made a bunch of birds attack him."

"Did they do any damage?"

"Just some cuts. The way he goes on about it, you'd think I put the Cruciatus Curse on him."

"The Cruciatus curse?" Jean asked.

"Oh, it's a curse designed for torture. It causes pain beyond pain and was first used my Herpo the Foul in-"

"I see," Jean interrupted hastily. "Well, you two have to make up eventually."

Hermione snorted, as if she doubted it. Jean sighed, and decided to give it up for now. She settled comfortably beside her daughter, and put her arm around her. Hermione allowed it, smiling slightly.

"For the record, Hermione, I think it was very brave of you to ask Ron out. I could have never done it with your father. Of course, back then, girls, didn't generally ask boys out," Jean noted.

"Oh, well," Hermione said awkwardly. "Well, Ron's always been shy about that sort of thing, so I figured I should be the one."

"Still, I think it was brave."

"Well, that's why I'm in Gryffindor," Hermione laughed, blushing. "But I'm not nearly as brave as Harry."

She began to get up when Jean voiced something that had been nagging her. "Hermione, how do you know about the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Oh! I read about it, of course."

"It's like torture?"

"Yes, the ultimate torture."

"Do you know anybody who's been under the curse?"

"Of course not!" Hermione said, not looking at her as she walked out of the room.

In March, Jean got a delighted letter from Hermione saying that she and Ron had made up again and not only that, Ron seemed to be getting sick of Lavender. Soon after that, a letter came reporting Ron had broken up with Lavender, or rather the other way around. Then another letter came, saying that Harry and Ron's little sister, Ginny, had finally gotten together.

"Hermione seems to be having quite a romantic year," Chris frowned.

"She is 17, honey," Jean smiled.

"Still, I'm going to have a talk with her when she gets off that train."

Now Mr. Granger was waiting to have his "talk" with Hermione outside Platform Nine and Three Quarters while Jean remembered six years of Hermione acting stranger and stranger and wondered how Hermione would be this summer.

Suddenly, two people appeared out of thin air from the barrier, a girl with scraggly blonde hair and huge eyes and a round-faced boy clutching a toad. They were greeted by a severe looking old woman in a grotesque stuffed vulture hat and a man in flamboyant robes. More people streamed out until finally Hermione's friends Harry and Ron emerged.

Harry looked much worse for the wear, he had grown quite a lot since they had last seen him, but he looked grim and set and even thinner than usual. He was clutching a gold locket, the chain braided between his fingers. Ron looked more serious than the Granger's had ever seen him.

"Hi, Hermione's Mum and Dad," Ron said, attempting a cheerful tone, as Harry raised his hand at them in a sort of half hearted wave. "Hermione should be out in a moment."

"Er, is anything wrong, you two?" Mrs. Granger asked, feeling slightly alarmed.

Just then, Hermione materialized behind them.

"Hi, Mum and Dad," she greeted them, her voice a little too cheerful.

"Harry, I'll be seeing you soon," she turned to her friend and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek as well. Harry smiled at her, patting her on the back and ambled off towards the Dursleys. Hermione turned toward Ron.

"I've got to do it now, Ron," she said softly.

Ron grabbed her hand very suddenly. "I want to be with you. Give you, you know, moral support."

Hermione flushed, looking down at the hand he was holding. "I- all right. Okay, if you really want to."

She turned to her parents. "Mum, Dad, is it okay if Ron comes home with us for a bit? He won't spend the night or anything; we just need to tell you something."

Jean was startled by this odd request, and Chris looked simply horrified.

"Have you two _eloped?" _he cried.

Hermione stared at him for a minute, and then suddenly doubled over with hysterical laughter. Ron had to grab her to keep her upright.

"Oh my…oh my…that's just so ridiculous…" their daughter shrieked in laughter, tears swimming in her eyes.

"It's not THAT funny," Ron said sourly.

"No," gasped Hermione, straightening up and wiping tears from her face, "No. We haven't eloped, Dad. Please, can we just go home? I really need to tell you some things, and Ron is just here for support."

So the Grangers took their daughter and her friend to their house. Hermione got them settled and made them coffee, just as she had before she'd confessed about the Chamber of Secrets her seventh year. Ron stood around, looking awkward in the Granger's spotless living room.

Then she sat down. Ron sat beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath.

"Mum. Dad. I've been keeping secrets from you. But now I'm going to tell you everything," she held up her hand as Chris opened his mouth to interrupt. "I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to protect you. You can't imagine how hard it's been for me. But now I'm telling you. Please listen, and please don't interrupt."

And so she told them. It was a long tale and at the end of it her voice was hoarse. It started as early as her first year, when she and her friends had discovered the Sorcerer's Stone was in danger of theft from none other than Lord Voldemort. It continued on to describe the Dark wizard's return, and how everyone was now in danger. It ended on the death of her beloved headmaster, Albus Dumbledore at the hands of her Potions teacher, and how she and Ron had insisted on accompanying her friend Harry on his quest to eradicate Voldemort.

"So you see," she finished softly. "You are both in terrible danger. Everyone is. I'm so sorry I kept this from you. I wanted to protect you; I wanted you not to worry. Hogwarts is my home. You two are my family, but so are Harry and Ron in a way…I just couldn't risk the chance you two would make me leave them. And I didn't want you…I figured it was safer for you not to know these things…I wanted you to be happy. I didn't think you could be if you knew."

Hermione stared miserably at them. Jean once again felt the horrible sensation the world had turned upside down. It was her job, as a mother, to protect her daughter. And all this time her daughter had been the one protecting her. She had failed at her job…so miserably. Chris was white in the face beside her; he seemed to be restraining himself from shouting at Hermione with difficulty, clearly horrified by his daughter's risk taking and duplicity.

Jean couldn't speak. She didn't know what to react to: the extraordinary things her daughter had done, the horrible danger her daughter had faced, the anger she felt over the secrets her daughter had kept from her or the threat that was closing in on them all. Hermione stood up. She was shaking very badly now. Ron stood up beside her, looking concerned.

"I'm telling you all this now," she said in a high pitched voice. "So you can understand what I'm about to do. I want you to go into hiding."

Jean's brain, which had been frozen in shock before, seemed to thaw slightly and something inside her squalled in protest.

"Hermione, you may have faced danger before and come out…whole. But that doesn't mean I'm letting you throw yourself in the path of a ruthless killer while your father and I hide like…like frightened children," she told her shakily.

Chris nodded jerkily, apparently still fighting the urge to lose his temper.

"I know you won't," said Hermione softly. "But if you don't hide, Voldemort's" -Ron grimaced slightly when she used the name- " Death Eaters will hunt you down and kill you because I'm friends with Harry, because you know about him, because you know me…and I can't abandon Harry and Ron. They need me."

Ron nodded vigorously and attempted a smile. "We really do. She's the brains of the operation! You-Know-Who's got no chance while we've got the walking library on our side."

Hermione threw Ron a look that was half exasperated, half amused. Chris, unable to control himself any longer, leapt out of his seat and yelled, "Dammit, Hermione, you heard your mother! We're the adults here! We're not letting you kill yourself and we're not agreeing to go into hiding!"

"I know," Hermione said again, and Jean saw that her eyes were full of tears. "That's why I'm going to have to make you."

Hermione pulled out her wand and Jean and Chris both froze.

"I-I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped, tears sliding down her cheeks now. "Th-this is the only way. They can't follow you or torture you or interrogate you if I- I make you be-become different people. It's the only…only way to keep you safe…"

"Hermione…" Jean said, her voice barely more than a whimper. She couldn't move. Her daughter was going to warp her mind, twist it until she forgot who she was, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing. Hermione's hand was shaking so horribly she didn't seem to be able to hold her wand steady.

"Hermione, I can do it," Ron muttered, his voice anxious and worried for the girl beside him, a girl Chris just hours ago had planned on lecturing about her love life, which seemed so insignificant now. As if he had ever had any authority over her, when she had the power to bend their mind to her will, when for so, so long she had been so separate and apart from her parents…inhabiting a different world…building a wall between them with secrets and lies…

"No, Ron," Hermione replied firmly, steadying her grip. "I have to do this myself."

"Hermione," Jean pleaded, her voice a whisper now, helpless before the might of her daughter's wand. "You can't do this…"

"I have to. I have to keep you safe from them. I have to make you forget about me, forget you ever knew me, so you don't…get killed…I'll come and find you, undo the jinx…if I…if I survive…if not, you'll still be happy…You'll be happy and s-safe... safe and happy." she wiped her eyes with her free hand, as Ron gently gripped her shoulder. When she looked up, there was a determined jut of her jaw, a hard look in her brown eyes.

"I love you," she said in a ringing voice.

Jean was unable to give an answer before Hermione's spell hit her. Suddenly, it was as if her mind was collapsing in on itself. Memories were swirling haphazardly, editing and reshaping themselves, images jumbled and blurred together, she could feel her daughter sifting through her head, sorting everything out.

And suddenly she couldn't see why she was thinking about a daughter. She'd never had a daughter. She'd never even wanted one. She put her career before everything. A daughter was the last thing on her mind.

In fact, the thing she most wanted was to go to Australia, have a practice there with her husband. Be with the Aussies, have a grand old time! Monica was so pleased they'd finally saved enough to go. There was a lot of work for dentists in Australia. It would be her and Wendell…together, only their careers on their mind, nothing else in the way. There was nothing, better nothing. She felt so happy at the thought. She felt so happy and safe... so safe and happy…

She and Wendell were in Australia now. The flight had been a bit bumpy, but now they were where they'd always wanted to be. They were ready to move into a nice new house, gotten a nice new practice and make their way in the world. It was everything they'd ever wanted. Everything.

Monica turned to grin at her husband, who smiled back. He held out his hand and she clasped it, and together they walked into their new low rise house, made of wood painted sparkling white and pristine in every way. Together, they walked into her brand new life.

They didn't notice that hidden in the shade of the trees across the street from them, a girl with bushy hair was sobbing into the shoulder of a gangly freckled boy, who was hugging her sympathetically. Soon after the Wilkins entered their house, the pair twisted in mid air, vanishing with a crack.

***

Monica's practice was thriving, her marriage was going as well as it ever had and she loved Australia. But something was missing. Maybe it was all the tragic events going on in the news, but some nights she felt oddly empty and depressed, as if something was wrong inside her. Sometimes the silliest things made her feel uncomfortable, like when she met a little girl with an overbite one day, who whined about how braces were a waste of time. There had been this odd jolt of familiarity in the scene, and it had unnerved her. It was almost like there was something below the surface, something she didn't quite understand. One time she and her husband had found a girl with curly brown hair reading a book on a park bench. They'd both stared for several minutes until the girl had looked up and smiled, and they'd both scurried away. A mutual confusion and discomfort hung between them for the rest of the day.

It all cleared up, though, on one hot summer's day when Monica and Wendell were headed down the street to the market, nearly a year after their arrival in Australia. "MU-I mean, MONICA! WENDELL!" they heard a woman's voice call behind them as they strolled down the lane.

They turned to see three young adults hurrying toward them, all around eighteen. They all looked rather thin and worn, as though they had been through a great ordeal. They all also sported several half healed burns. It was the girl in the lead, though, the one who had called them, that made Monica's heart stop. She had a mass of frizzy brown hair, sparkling brown eyes and she was smiling broadly at the sight of them. She was so horribly, horribly familiar…but it was as if something was keeping Monica from placing her. She looked over at Wendell, and saw he was staring at the girl too.

The threesome stopped in front of them, all beaming. The girl was accompanied by a gangly red-haired boy and a scrawny young man with glasses and messy black hair. But Monica couldn't really focus on them, as she couldn't take her eyes off the girl. A great rush of feelings she couldn't identify had welled up at the sight of that girl, and she still couldn't quite place her.

"You…you…" Monica managed to stammer, squinting at her. Wendell was mouthing soundlessly, also gaping in confusion.

The girl gave another broad smile, and she and her friends grabbed the confused couple and dragged them to an empty side street. The girl extracted a wooden stick from her pants pocket, raised it, pointed it at them and muttered some incomprehensible words. Monica barely had time to be startled by this behavior before her mind suddenly seemed to turn upside down; vomiting up buried memories and doing away with fake ones. Suddenly, she was Jean Granger again.

She blinked at her daughter.

"We did it!" Hermione squealed. "We found the Horcruxes, and Harry killed him! And we didn't die!"

She said the last bit as if she didn't believe it herself. Jean tried to say something, but couldn't. Coming back to herself was too much to process. She didn't know how to regard the girl in front of her, who was now biting her lip, and lookingup at her silent, shocked parents with eyes that were swimming with tears. Hermione seemed unsure of what to do or what to say, how to explain or break through the wall between her and two people she had just realeased from enchantment she simply stood there, looking uncertain and alone, trembling and pale. Rom gently nudged her as Harry smiled, and as if the simple gesture had realeased something inside her, the girl heaved herself into her mother's arms, sobbing, as the two boys watched.

"I am…so sorry," Hermione gulped. "I don't know if you'll ever…be able to forg-give me…what I did was horrible…you have no idea how bad I…but…" her sobs subsided slightly, and she looked up into her mother's eyes. "

It's going to be different now," Hermione promised breathlessly, looking around at her father too. "I'm not going to lie, or keep secrets…our worlds don't have to be so far apart anymore. I can be a part of yours, and you can be a part of mine."

She buried her face in her mother's shoulder again. It seemed for once Hermione was the child, who needed the shelter and protection of her mother's arms. "I love you," Hermione mumbled into Jean's tear soaked shirt.

This time, Jean was able to give an answer. And despite everything, despite the lies and betrayal and strangeness, she gave it automatically, without hesitation.

"I love you, too."


End file.
